


Small Gestures

by Stariceling



Category: Natsume Yuujinchou | Natsume's Book of Friends
Genre: Developing Friendships, Fluff, Gen, Hair, Non-Sexual Intimacy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-05
Updated: 2016-05-05
Packaged: 2018-06-06 12:43:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6754279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stariceling/pseuds/Stariceling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It takes a little while for Natsume to understand why Madara keeps messing up his hair.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Small Gestures

**Author's Note:**

  * For [slr2moons](https://archiveofourown.org/users/slr2moons/gifts).



> For the non-sexual intimacy prompt meme: Natsume/Nyanko friendship, playing with hair
> 
> I'm so sorry this took so long. In the end I'm much happier with it than my first idea and hope you will be too! Welcome back to internet, and may your connection be strong for a long time to come!

The first time Natsume feels hot breath huff against the back of his head it sends goose bumps all the way down his neck. He punches Madara on the nose for that, and forgets about it later. It’s a perfectly reasonable way to react to someone who has threatened to eat him on more than one occasion.

* * *

Thunder rolls sullenly across the sky and Natsume is already half awake when he notices warm breath on the side of his head. He knows who’s stretched out nearby, of course. When he turns his head he catches the glint of one eye not completely closed. He could let it go but he doesn’t. He smacks Madara with his pillow for lurking so close to him in the dark.

* * *

On a dry summer day Natsume finds himself face-down in the dust, with someone much too heavy weighing him down. He can feel growls vibrating through his bones.

“Get off of me!”

“You’re only going to do something stupid.”

“I need to do something!” Natsume heaves himself out from under the heavy paw.

Madara nips the back of his shirt as delicately as a cat might pick up a kitten, but the shirt nearly strangles him when Madara hauls him back.

“Listen to me!”

He does. Even when he thinks Madara is wrong he will reluctantly admit it’s usually a good idea to at least listen. The angry huffs of breath when he doesn’t agree feel more substantial than they should, like a hand ghosting through his hair.

* * *

Being drained of spiritual energy on a regular basis (not to mention mental and physical exhaustion on top) has some annoying consequences, including the third cold Natsume has suffered this month. He wants to spend his day off just sleeping.

For a friend, though, he thinks he can stay awake for a little while longer.

Tanuma brought lemon-ginger tea, which he claims always helps him. Natsume comments on the power of vitamin C to drive out ayakashi, which leads to an interesting discussion. Tanuma’s father has apparently put serious thought into effects of ayakashi on the human immune system. For obvious reasons, Natsume thinks but doesn’t need to say.

Natsume watches as Tanuma uses one of Madara’s toys to distract him from getting in the paper bag of get-well presents. Madara is absolutely too dignified to play right up until the toy flicks past his nose and he can’t resist. He ends up on his back, fluffy cat toy clutched in both paws.

“That’s why he likes playing with you. You let him win.”

“Really?” Tanuma has the faintest smile, one that stays at the very corners of his mouth.

His glance makes Natsume run fingers through hair, straightening out the mess it has become on one side. He wasn’t completely asleep earlier, when a certain someone decided to muss his hair into a bird’s nest. Among the three of them, no one sees a need to mention it.

* * *

The sun is warm and low on the edge of sunset, and Natsume is just grateful that this day is over. When Madara huffs at the back of his neck for letting a low-level ayakashi take advantage of him yet again, he doesn’t flinch. This is just something that happens now, his mentor ruffling his hair into a mess without even touching.

* * *

“Takashi, wait. Your hair’s a mess.”

He’s not surprised. He was almost eaten yesterday, by someone other than Madara. This has become a pattern.

Natsume bends slightly to let Touko finger-comb his unruly hair into place. She smiles to herself, fussing a little more than necessary once she has him holding still.

He thanks her and she tells him to have a good day, be safe, even though she doesn’t know how dangerous his days can be.

There doesn’t seem to be much he can say in response. It’s still hard to express affection sometimes, even when he recognizes it.

He does recognize it. He’s not completely deaf to ‘I want you to be safe,’ even when it’s not in words.

* * *

At first it’s easier to pet Madara the wrong way half the time, so his fur rumples up and he stalks off, lashing his tail at the supreme indignity. It’s something to tease about, something for him to grump about because why can’t Natsume be a good follower? It’s easy for Natsume to laugh about it.

It’s an easy way to acknowledge that boundaries are shifting without saying it.

* * *

Natsume started the evening with Madara flopped next to him on the floor, tired and slightly grumpy. (Other ayakashi trying to make his life hard. More running around after Natsume. More names gone from the book.) He finished his chapter at least ten minutes ago, but he idly leaves one hand in the textbook like a bookmark. His other hand is busy stroking soft fur.

Unlike the short-haired lucky cat form, Madara’s fur is now long and sleek. If Natsume scratches gently at the top of Madara’s head it seems to wrap around his fingers with a mind of its own. If he moves his hand it slips away, like heavy strands of silk.

Natsume wonders if there is an animal in the natural world that has fur like this. He wonders about Madara mussing his hair without touching, if his hair is comparatively too short and fine to play with. Or maybe that’s just Madara’s way. He’s not about to change it, anyway.

“I’m not a cat,” Madara mutters to himself, words trapped in a cage of teeth. Opening his mouth properly would risk dislodging Natsume’s hand.

“Mm-hm.”

He can feel Madara purring in silent vibrations through the tatami. It’s calming, enough to make him put his head down on his book for a moment.

Natsume feels a huff of warm breath through his hair, too quick and insubstantial to be a hand but it still gives him the feeling of fingers running fondly through his hair. He doesn’t want to move. He’s had a long day too, after all.

“I know,” he answers, fingers so tangled in soft fur it seems too much trouble to move them. It’s probably not the response Madara expects, but for now it seems to do.


End file.
